


How Bad Can It Get?

by Intergalactic_Author



Category: Darkiplier - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-14 21:24:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3426095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Intergalactic_Author/pseuds/Intergalactic_Author
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay. I wrote this after seeing Markiplier's Presentable Liberty. If that video effected you in a negative way, DO NOT READ THIS. </p>
<p>That's not some reverse psychology crap. </p>
<p>This is a story I plotted in the middle of the night and it made me actually cry as I wrote it.  </p>
<p>I don't want Mark to read this, but I'm totally fine with the fandom reading it, so, here. </p>
<p>This story messes with Mark's fears and is extremely relentless in doing so by reopening old wounds and making new, deeper ones. </p>
<p>It's a feelsy story that will make you cry if you've been a Markiplite for a while and understand why all things shown/ described hurt him like they do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You will always be alone

Mark jolted awake and looked around the dark room. Whatever he was laying on was hard as rock. The air was still. It was silent outside. Not even any wind.

            Some sunlight started peaking in through the small window above him on the wall. It revealed a small cell, four weird posters, a wooden table next to him, a small game system on the table and an empty plate.

            Mark didn’t remember anything. He couldn’t remember how he got there or why he was there. He held his head in his hand and noticed a pile of envelopes on the ground. The letters they had contained were strewn about over the layer of cheap confetti on the floor.

            He moved to the end of the bed and picked up a light pink letter. The bloodstain on it jolted his memory. “Charlotte…” He whispered. He looked up and breathed in sharply. He let the letter drop out of his shaking hand as it all rushed back to him.

            Tiny Bug Tim moved to his shoulder but Mark ignored him.

            He struggled to move back to the bed and leaned against the wall. He had been in this cell as the world died outside from some virus that Dr. Money had put out there. All of his friends were dead.

            He was alone.

            Mark was alone.

            He choked up and held back tears as the sadness overwhelmed him. Soon he broke and cried into his hands, slowly rocking himself back and forth until he fell over onto his side. He faced the gray wall.

            Loneliness can drive a person insane. Mark had felt this before but couldn’t remember when. He couldn’t remember anything really before this jail cell.

            He’d never met Charlotte or Salvadore but he had felt like he’d known them for years through the letters from the few days before.

            Mark stared at the wall and let the tears fall to the bed. “I’m alone until I die.”

            He heard the door open and someone walked in. “Ain’t that the truth,” a male voice said and Mark rolled over as he heard a gun cock. His eyes widened as he looked down the barrel of the gun. He started panicking and looked up at the man. The dark circles around his eyes seemed familiar, even the fauxhawk. He looked back at the gun. “Let’s find out.”

            This man put the gun point blank on Mark’s forehead and pulled the trigger before he could react. He watched Mark fall awkwardly onto the bed and bleed to death. His lifeless eyes stared at the wall. He left the room and shut the door. He faced the rest of the hallway and stopped as a voice spoke into his ear, “Let’s see how long it takes to break him.”

            “Agreed.” He answered, twirling the gun on his finger with the trigger guard. He walked down the hall and walked through a pair of black doors.

 

            Mark woke up in a dark room. He looked around at all the posters and his eyes landed on the letters on the floor. He remembered that his friends were dead and he was all alone. He turned and saw blood splattered on the wall. He looked down from where he got up. The bloodstain was massive and left a trail over the side of the bed and into a pool on the floor.

            His eyes landed on the letters again and he started crying. He started hearing yelling in his head. He stared at the wall in front of him and held his head. The yelling only got louder and turned into screams. He couldn’t tell what they were saying. There were too many of them.

            If Mark had been able to hear even one of them, he would have understood the words ‘We are here, Mark.’, ‘We are listening.’ and ‘We can hear you loud and clear.’

            His cries turned into screams of anguish that echoed through the empty building. He fell onto the bed and lay on his side. The screams in his head started dying out. His voice started cracking and the screams turned into quick sobs. He let out quiet screams of misery into his empty cell.

            The door creaked open. He looked and saw someone stand there. This person’s dark eyes were encircled with thick dark shadows. This person’s eyes were infixed on Mark.

            He didn’t say anything. His cold glare provoked Mark to speak through quick sobs.

            “Who are you?” He asked trying to catch his breath. Maybe he wasn’t alone and maybe this person was nice.

            A smile crept across this person’s mouth, “I am death.” He growled and he revealed the knife he was carrying. Mark’s eyes widened. Death took two steps and kneeled onto Mark’s bed next to him. He grabbed Mark’s hair and pulled his head back.

            Mark didn’t fight it. Maybe death was the answer.

            “To bad I’m not going to set you free.” He said with a smile and looked into Mark’s eyes as he lined up the tip of the blade with Mark’s neck. With one swift move, he drove the blade into his skin and dragged it through his neck, slicing open his throat.

            Mark chocked on his own blood as it gushed out of his mouth and held his throat as Death backed up. He watched Mark take his last gargled breath and die. He tilted his head to one side as Mark’s lifeless body fell to the bed.

            Death shut the door behind him and his laughed echoed until he left the hallway.

 

            Mark jolted awake and saw the dark cell light up with the rising sun. He felt something sticky on the bed and looked down at the blood stains. It smelled disgusting. The bloodstain on the wall had dried up.

            The letters on the floor reminded him that he was alone.      

            He looked at Tiny Bug Tim as he pointed to Mark’s neck. He felt his skin and his fingers ran over a long scar across his neck that he didn’t remember getting. He shuddered. He hated the neck slicing thing. Always did, always will.

            He heard the crackling of wood on fire outside his cell and stood up. He instantly recognized the face of his brother. “Thomas!” He shouldn’t be here. Mark rushed to the door and couldn’t open it. He held onto the bars on the window.

            Thomas opened his eyes and tried to move but couldn’t.  He was tied to a pyre. “Mark! Mark, help me!” He shouted at his brother on the other side of the locked cell door.

Mark couldn’t believe his eyes as Death dropped a lit match onto the pyre. It quickly lit up. Thomas screamed as the fire raced across his body. The flames engulfed him, “Mark…” He strained to say through the smoke he kept breathing in. “Brother… Help me…” Thomas’s voice was weak and faded quickly, drowned out by the crackling of the pyre.

“No! Thomas!” Mark screamed as reality hit. He backed away from the door as Death walked over to it and thrust it open.

“You couldn’t save him Mark.” His voice was unsympathetic. He shoved Mark back onto the bed. “He died because you couldn’t save him.” He slapped Mark and moved onto the bed as he tried to back away. “Why couldn’t you save him?” He slapped Mark harder, leaving a red hand print on his face. “Useless!” He shoved Mark into the wall as his voice echoed. “Weak!” He punched Mark in the chest and backed away as Mark yelped in pain and tried to breathe. “Worthless!” He punched him again and he back lashed forward. Death grabbed his neck and got really close to Mark’s face. “Mistake.” He growled and watched Mark die inside with each word. He raised his fist again and punched Mark’s chin so hard that his head spun around violently enough to break his neck.

Death backed up and glared at the dying Mark leaning on the wall. He closed the door behind him. 


	2. Subscription numbers aren't really people

Mark’s eyes snapped open. He was in his room back home. He sat up and relaxed into the softness of his bed. He turned to the figure in his room and jumped. The figure laughed softly and smiled. “Hello son.”  His dad opened his arms as Mark scrambled to get up. He rushed into his father’s arms and cried. His father held him out at arm’s length and tried to smile. “I’m so proud of you, Mark.” He looked at his son’s half broken smile and wiped away the tears that streaked down his face.  

Mark breathed in a shaky breath to speak but couldn’t form words in time before his father’s smile disappeared and the room darkened. He looked at his dad. His dad looked at him.

“Stay strong my son.” He managed to say before crazed laughter engulfed the darkness. His father’s grip tightened on his shoulders. He never looked away from Mark as Death grabbed him and tore him away. Death moved Mark’s father away from him and the door of the cell appeared to separate them.

“Dad!” Mark screamed as he held onto the bars of the window on the door. He tugged on the door but it didn’t budge. Death shoved his father down to his knees. “No!”

Mark’s father never looked away from him as Death raised the gun to the side of his head. He straightened up and took a breath, “Never surrender” the gun cocked and Death laughed again. “I love you, my s…” Death pulled the trigger before he could finish. The gunshot echoed around that last lingering word.

Death’s laugh grew louder as he listened to Mark’s deafening scream. The psychotic laughter echoed around the hall as the body fell to the floor, blood splattered across the wall behind them. He tucked the gun away and looked at Mark.

Mark tried to breathe as he looked at those lifeless eyes. And he broke. He didn’t want to be alive anymore. He had already watched his dad die. Once was enough. He couldn’t focus on anything. He barely managed to look away from his dad’s corpse. He lowered his head and pried his fingers from the bars and backed up and fell onto the bed.

He could only force himself to breathe. There were no more tears to shed. He’d run out of them.  He looked up as Death opened the door and looked at him. “This is when you kill me.” His voice was broken. “So just do it already.”

Death was silent and didn’t move. “Nah. I’ll let you live with this.” He laughed again, “There’s nothing better than a broken soul.” He shut the door behind him and left him in the darkness. Death walked by the corpse and stopped. He kicked it and watched it fizzle into nothingness. He walked down the hall and walked through the two doors.

Mark curled up on his side on the bed and cried. But there were no tears, only high pitched screeches of despair that no one could hear.

After a while, his voice gave out and it was deathly silent. He didn’t sleep that night.

He must’ve managed to find some sort of peace in all this. The sun rose and woke him up. He jumped when he saw a large white dog on the floor, sleeping. He stayed where he was and sighed, “Lucy you shouldn’t be here.” He tugged on the sheets and didn’t want to assume the worst. Lucy stirred and looked at Mark with red eyes. It blinked a few times and the eyes turn to Lucy’s normal eye color.

Mark moved back to the wall and watched her get up. She could only support her front half on her front legs. She started whimpering and looked at Mark with sad eyes. Her whimpering turned into yelps as she started disintegrating into a puddle of blood and fur on the floor. 

He pulled his legs to his chest and stared at the puddle. He jumped when the door swung open.

“What the hell is that smell?” He asked and looked down. “Right,” He looked at Mark and walked into the room. He stopped in the puddle and ignored the squishy sounds the fur made in the blood as he stepped on them. He looked at the tear stains on Mark’s face. “Finally stop crying?”

Mark didn’t answer. He didn’t want to move but reluctantly reached out for the letter that Death held out to him. He opened it and read it.

“So, um, you made it to day five and due to our agreement, you get to leave.” Death said what was on the letter and raised the gun behind the letter. When he cocked it, Mark dropped the letter.

“But I get to leave…” He trailed off and pressed his back against the wall.

“Then you should wake up.” He said with a smile and watched Mark close his eyes and brace himself. He pulled the trigger and the sound echoed throughout the empty building.

 

Mark woke up. He was in a soft bed under a blanket that was tucked under the bottom of it and one arm was over the cover. He breathed steadily from an oxygen source and heard the beeps and sounds of a hospital recovery room. He blinked and saw his mom asleep in a chair next to his bed.

The heart monitor beeped rapidly when he saw Thomas sketching something in his sketch book. He looked up and smiled, “Thank God.”

“What happened?” Mark asked. His mom woke up and promptly kissed his head.

“You don’t remember going into surgery for the cancer they found?” Thomas asked as he set his sketchbook aside and went over to Mark.

Mark shook his head.

“Well,” He looked at the doctor in the doorway. He held a clipboard. “We got it all.” He walked over to Mark and stood by the side of the bed to look at the monitor. The doctor looked down at Mark after a while and smiled. Mark looked into very familiar red eyes and the heart monitor bleeped quickly again. “What’s wrong? You had to wake up remember?”

Mark couldn’t feel his mom’s hand anymore and Thomas had disappeared too. The room darkened and changed completely. He was strapped down to a table. A single light hung over him.

“Not what you expected is it?” A voice said from the darkness. “Of course it isn’t,” he walked into the light. “I’m Doctor Money and you are my special case patient in my asylum.” He looked at someone else. “My assistant, Dark, has done his job well.”

Mark could barely turn his head to see Death… Dark as he walked up to the table.

“The doctors didn’t know what to do with you so they handed you over to me.” He explained as he rearranged the light above Mark.

Dark loomed over Mark’s face, “your brainwaves are amazing, by the way.” He glanced at the doctor. “He was attracted to that.” He picked up something and held it to the light. It was a double needle syringe.

Mark couldn’t struggle even if he hadn’t been strapped down. He was too weak from everything else to move. He looked up at the light as Dark shoved the needles into his bicep and he screamed from the pain. It affected him immediately. His vision blurred and he closed his eyes.

 

“Open your eyes Mark,” A different voice woke him up. He opened his eyes. His head was turned to face the wall. He saw a hooded figure.

“Ruvik…?” He mumbled and was confused by the sight of this figure.

“I might as well be.” He replied and looked up at him. Black eyes looked at him. He was difficult to see in the darkness but his pale skin stood out and it looked like it was cracked. “But I’m not.”

Mark blinked to focus better. He didn’t need glasses. He thought that was weird.

As he blinked the figure moved closer to him and looked at him. He placed his hands on the table on either side of his head.

“Maybe you should try to wake up again…” He suggested, “You know. Before they cut you open.” He looked at what they were doing. Mark did not.

“Who are you?” Mark asked softly.

He looked down at Mark. “I am the evil within.” He smiled. “I’ll help you awaken.” He looked up and looked around the room.     

The walls started shifting and morphing into something else. The straps disappeared, as did the table and the doctor and Dark. It was all darkness. He was on the bed in his cell.

Silence.

Loss of memory.

Mark jolted awake and looked around the dark room. Whatever he was laying on was hard as rock. The air was still. It was silent outside. Not even any wind. The sunlight peaked in and he looked up at the blank wall.

He froze as he read the words written there in blood.

“They need you right now, but when they don’t, they’ll cast you out.”

The words “Alone,” appeared in front of him. “You’ll always be alone.”   

The silence proved it to be true.  


End file.
